Up In Flames (3 page)

She jerked her chin away. “I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I... No one will notice me missing. I came alone and I wasn’t exactly friendly to anyone on the boat.”

“You came alone?”

Oh, why did he have to focus on that one small tidbit? She hadn’t even meant to admit that much. She put her chin in the air and said, “Yes. Alone.”

He looked her over slowly from head to toe, made a grunting sound, then turned away and started unbuttoning his shirt. “I figured you’d be married to some young yuppie executive type by now.”

If all had gone as planned, she would have been. Thank God she’d called it off in time.

When Adam shrugged out of his shirt, at first all she could do was stare at his chest. Hard, lean, covered with a light dusting of hair a shade or two darker than his golden head, it was the type of chest female fantasies were made of. When his hands went to the buttons on his slacks, her mouth fell open, then snapped shut. In a croak, she asked, “What do you think you’re doing?”

Without looking at her, he said, “You don’t expect me to go exploring our little island in suit pants, do you?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. The pants were shoved down, and she whirled around so fast her head swam. But she hadn’t been quite quick enough. She saw snug cotton boxer briefs—wet briefs—molded closely to his lower body. The man was a total fiend.

“Adam,” she said, doing her best to keep her tone calm and reasonable, “put your pants back on.”

“No way. If you had any sense, you’d lose that skirt.”

She clutched her skirts protectively to her body. “I will do no such thing!”

“Suit yourself. But I don’t think it’ll hold up long if you don’t wash the salt water out of it and let it air dry.”

He had a point, not that she intended to disrobe in front of him. It didn’t matter that she wore matching shorts beneath the skirt and underwear under that. Her ex-fiancé had told her numerous times that she needed to put on weight, to gain some curves. And toward the end, she’d finally realized he didn’t find her attractive at all. Oh, he put up a good front, and he tried. Jerry was always pleasant, mannerly, proper. That was one of the reasons she’d broken things off with him; he seemed more emotionless every day, like he had no depth, at least not where she was concerned.

She’d come here to rest, to get control of her emotions after the painful breakup. Ha! Controlling her emotions around Adam had always been impossible.

It was imperative she carry her own weight, that she prove to him her little display in the water was an aberration. She could and would fend for herself.

She was still figuring ways to do that when his warm breath touched the back of her neck. She hadn’t even noticed him approaching!

“One thing hasn’t changed, I see.”

Melanie froze, not daring to move in case his mouth actually touched her skin—in which case she knew she’d likely faint. Her every nerve ending felt stretched tight with him so close. Even her fingertips tingled. “What?”

“You’re still a shy little thing.”

But she wasn’t shy. She was just...affected by him. She’d always been affected by him. He made her nervous and tongue-tied and loopy. From the first day she’d seen him, he’d look at her and her stomach would do flips. Forcing herself to turn, she had her mouth open with a scathing retort when she remembered his state of undress.

Oh, my.
Her lips wouldn’t move. As to that, neither would her eyes; they stayed glued on the bare, very male body he presented. Her imagination hadn’t done him justice.

Adam chucked her chin. “Come on. We’ll walk along the shore a bit and see if we can find any signs of habitation.”

He moved away from her, and she stared, heart racing, as he sauntered to his bag and picked it up. He left his discarded clothes lying amid the long, dry grass. As he went past her again, he whistled a jaunty tune.

If she’d found a rock, she’d have thrown it at his head. Frustrated, annoyed and somewhat intrigued, Melanie hurried to catch up.

As Adam had said, many things had changed. But one thing that hadn’t was his appeal. The man still had it in spades. And though she hated to admit it, she’d never been immune.

CHAPTER THREE

“If you’re so sure we’re alone, why drag along your bag?”

Adam smiled slightly to himself. Though she did her best to be cavalier, her voice shook. Good. Let her fret awhile. Misery loved company, and his mind was so jumbled at the moment, it was filled with the worst kind of misery.

He’d missed his meeting. Hiding his reaction from Mel wasn’t easy, but he had no intention of letting her know how important the deal had been for him. Not only that, but it had taken mere moments in her company for him to revert to form, to become the taunting bully she’d always claimed him to be. He hadn’t treated a woman with less than full respect and gentleness since he’d moved away from Brockton.

Except for now. By word and attitude he’d proved Mel right, that he hadn’t really changed at all. And it made him madder than hell. “I have important stuff inside. Where I go, it goes.”

His dark boxers were nearly dry now, but her long skirt was still dripping. He wished she’d lose it. One nice long look at her legs would make his outlook brighter. She was still so slender, so fragile. Seven years hadn’t changed that, but emotionally, she was more sturdy. He laughed. Hell, she was almost mean, as she’d accused him of being.

“Why are you laughing?”

He slanted her a look. “Private joke.” But while he was looking at her, he noticed how fair her skin was. “You got sunscreen on?”

She looked at her body, then crossed her arms over the delicate skin of her midriff. “I did have. But that was before our little dip in the ocean.”

“Damn. Much as I hate to do this...” He stopped and set his bag on the sand, then knelt before it. “I have a shirt you can put on. I don’t want to see you get burned.”

“Playing hero again?”

His jaw locked for a second as her words hit him. He was so far from heroic it was laughable. She knew it too, and probably used the term as more of an insult than a compliment. He surveyed her smug little expression, then shook his head. “No, I just don’t want to hear you whining later if your tender skin gets pink.”

“I do not whine.”

“The hell you don’t.”

She started to stalk away and he called out, “Just where do you think you’re going, honey? If you get lost and a wild boar gets you, it’s no sweat off my nose.”

She halted in her tracks, then slowly turned to him. “There are no wild boars on a Florida island.”

Shoving clothes aside, he lifted out the much acclaimed guidebook and shook it at her. “Says different in here!” So far, he really had no idea what the damn manual said. He hadn’t had a chance to look it over completely.

She stomped back to him, kicking up sand along the way. She had the attitude of a very tiny, very female bull. “Let me see that.”

He held it behind his back. “I don’t think so. It’s mine. In fact, I’ve got a lot of useful stuff here in my bag. Let’s see—” He shoved the booklet under his backside so she couldn’t get to it then began rummaging in his bag. “There’s the shirt you could surely use to protect your delicate hide if only you’d stop being such a witch. Toothpaste and toothbrush. A few candy bars, gum, shampoo and soap. A razor.” He looked at her and grinned his most evil grin. “Clean Skivvies and even a pack of condoms.”

His evil grin was nothing compared to her aristocratic look of disdain. “Well, unless you intend to sweet-talk the boars, I seriously doubt you’ll need the condoms.”

“A smart man is always prepared.”

“Then I’m so surprised you thought of it.”

Her look was so snotty, he grinned, then actually laughed. “Damn, you’re still a world-class snob.”

She gasped at him. “I was
never
a snob!”

He held up one finger, interrupting her tirade. “But...you’re a snob with nothing more than the clothes on your back. If you want to borrow anything I have, you better start being nice.”

“Go to hell!”

He made an amused tsking sound. “Such language. Should I remind you, Mel, that there aren’t any stores on a deserted island? Your charge cards won’t do you much good.”

“I don’t even have my purse with me. Not that it matters, because we’ll be rescued by dinnertime.”

He shook his head in a pitying fashion. “You’re still so naive.”

“I was never a snob and I was never naive. You were always too busy provoking me to know me at all.”

The words had a grain of truth, at least in regard to their earlier relationship, before high school. But he’d be damned if he’d let her make him feel bad now. “I was provoking because you were such a snob.”

Her face colored in silent rage. “And you’re a pessimist. Keep all your precious belongings. I won’t need them.”

Adam considered her stance; hands on hips, her hair a dark, glossy halo around her head, her wispy, flowery skirt. The island served as the perfect backdrop for her. She looked exotic and desirable and damn sexy. “Wanna bet?”

“What?”

He pursed his lips. “I’ll make you a deal. You’ll get my sincere apology if we’re rescued by dinner.”

“And if we’re not?”

“Well, now, let’s see.” His gaze focused on her mouth, and his voice dropped slightly. “I always wondered what it would be like to kiss you.”

She gasped; her cheeks turned hot for an entirely different reason. “I don’t believe you.”

“Oh, it’s true. I wondered about it. A lot.”

“Well, you can just go on wondering!”

And he would, he had no doubt of that. Even the seven years they’d been separated hadn’t been enough to obliterate the fantasies he had about her. But now here was a chance to live them, at least to some degree. “Chicken?”

Her eyes darkened, brows drew together. “Of course not.”

He stepped closer, whispering, “Then bet me.”

“Jerk.”

“And here I thought I was your hero.”

She made a soft, growling sound, then gave an abrupt nod. “All right. But you’ll be sorry when you lose.”

“Will you be sorry, too?”

She turned her back on him. Smiling, Adam dug out the long-sleeved white dress shirt. Mel was stiff, nearly vibrating with anger. He should have been ashamed for taunting her, a gut reaction he thought he’d lost after high school, but instead, he was turned on. She seemed so sexy with her new outspoken manner.

“Here, let’s get you covered up before you burn. It’s the truth, I don’t cotton to roasted woman. I’d rather kiss you tonight when you’re not in pain from the sun.” He tried his warmest, most sincere expression on her, the one that usually had women agreeing with his every word.

But when he reached to put the shirt on her, she stepped back and swallowed hard. “Adam, I don’t think we should fight.”

“Absolutely not.” He reached for her again, and she caught his hand.

“In all seriousness, we could be stuck here for a few hours.” Her expression was earnest, concerned.

“Could be.” He wouldn’t remind her again just how seriously they were stranded. Tonight, when he kissed her senseless, she’d finally accept the truth. The anticipation was almost enough to soften his disappointment over losing the deal. Almost.

“Could we call a truce?”

“Are you backing out of the bet?”

She sighed. “No.”

“Then by all means, behold a peaceable man. Now put on the shirt.” He slipped it around her, but he had to lean close to do so, and suddenly she gasped.

“Oh, my God! Your head.”

He eyed her cautiously. “I know it hurts like the devil but it’s still on my shoulders, isn’t it?”

“You’re bleeding!”

“Quit squawking, Mel. I’m fine. I just knocked my head on the slide when I went overboard.”

“Here, sit down.” She pushed at his shoulders and Adam stared at her, not budging. Her tiny hands and puny strength were easy to ignore. But her sudden concern... He wasn’t quite sure what to think of it. Over the years he’d imagined many things from Mel, but never genuine concern.

“Mel...”

“Melanie,” she corrected, but this time without heat. “Now sit.”

No woman other than his mother had ever pampered him, except in bed, so he sat and awaited a unique experience. His manly ego, however, insisted that he protest one last time. “I’m fine, Mel, really.”

She leaned over him, and he could feel her soft breath on his shoulder, could smell the woman sweet scent of her. Her slender fingers touched, oh so gently, his scalp.

In hushed, pained tones, she whispered, “You’ve got a terrible gash, Adam.”

He decided a little sympathy from her wouldn’t be a bad thing. As long as he was going to let her believe he’d jumped overboard after her, he might as well go for broke. Besides, he would have come to her rescue—if he hadn’t fallen in by accident. “It’s not still bleeding, is it?”

“A little.”

“Well, see then? It’s almost stopped, so there’s nothing to worry about. And after all that time in the ocean, it’s been cleaned out good.”

She didn’t sound convinced. “I took first-aid classes in college. I think we need to put some pressure on it.”

“Mel, my head hurts enough as it is without you playing doctor.” He heard what he said, knew she’d heard it too, and grinned. “Then again...”

“Just be quiet, Adam.” As she spoke, she came around him and opened his bag. “You must have something in here we could use as a bandage and wrap.”

He caught her hands and pulled them away. “Quit rifling through my things!”

“Stop being such a baby!”

“I’m not....” He hesitated, caught by the worry in her gaze, the near desperation. She truly wanted to help him.
Mel Tucker was showing him tenderness.

That fact left him a little shaky. “Oh, hell, go ahead then. Suit yourself. I can see you’re going to be stubborn about this.”

The first thing she pulled out of his bag was his business envelope, thickly padded and sealed. It held the contract of buying terms, a check, insurance papers. Everything he’d needed for his future. Now all wasted.

“What’s this?”

He stared at the blazing sun and silently cursed the ocean, the weather and drunk captains. “Pretty much useless garbage at this point.”

His tone was mean enough to put off more questions.

Of course, that didn’t stop Mel. The rich lived by their own rules and seldom let anything stand in their way.

Still rummaging, she said, “It looks important.”

“
Was
important. But I missed the deadline by now.”

“Deadline for what? Oh, look. These will do nicely as a bandage.”

Appalled, Adam growled, “I’m damn well not wearing my underwear on my head!”

“Oh, for goodness sake, I’ll rip them up. They’re white cotton and will work perfectly.”

He shook his head. “Hell, no.”

“Adam...”

“If you’re so set on underwear, let’s use yours.”

Her eyes widened, and she sputtered. “I’m wearing mine!”

“So take them off.”

She looked ready to smack him. “Mine won’t do.”

“Why not? You said underwear was perfect and I’d damn sure rather it be—”

“Mine aren’t white and they aren’t cotton,” she blurted, then he watched, fascinated, as her face turned bright red.

He was still cad enough to love seeing a woman’s blush, especially Mel’s. “Do tell.”

She wouldn’t look at him. “Stop trying to distract me.”

“I was distracting myself.” Not that it would take much with her standing there still damp, her skin dewy, her skirt and halter clinging to her body. She was as thin as she’d been in high school, her ribs visible below the halter top, but she looked so soft, too, so damn female.

He cleared his throat. “All right. We’ll skip undies altogether. Find something else. This’ll do.” He lifted out a black T-shirt he’d brought for the trip home, to wear with his jeans. Once the business meeting ended, he’d planned to get comfortable again. He positively hated suits.

Mel shook her head. “Black isn’t good because it’ll be harder to see if you’re still bleeding.”

“It’s either this or your panties. Take your pick.”

She took the T-shirt. “You always were a rotten bully, Adam Stone.”

“So you ought to be used to it, right?” He was done trying to convince her he’d changed. What difference did it make, anyway? When all was said and done, they were still separated by a background that would never alter.

Adam drew his key ring from his bag. It had a small but lethally sharp pocketknife attached. He attacked the shirt with a vengeance.

Staring at the knife, Mel asked, “Why in the world are you carrying that?”

“Old instincts are hard to shake. I got the knife when I was sixteen, when we still lived by the river.” He glanced at her, saw her appalled expression and shook his head. “I’ve never gutted anyone, honey. I’ve just kept it for protection. And because now I’m used to carrying it.”

“Good grief, do you still have your leather jacket, too?”

He grinned. “As a matter of fact, yeah, I do. But it’s too small for me to wear anymore. My mother bought me that jacket by taking in sewing. It means a hell of a lot to me. Of course, if she’d known what a redneck I felt like wearing it, she probably would have taken it back.”

She laughed. “You did have your moments of mischief.”

Adam tipped his head and studied her. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

He tweaked a dark, glossy curl by her ear. “You still got those Minnie Mouse combs you used to wear in your hair, one on each side?”

She looked surprised that he remembered; he could have told her there was little he’d ever forgotten, at least about her. He remembered the cute little dresses she used to wear, how serious she always looked, how alone.

His heart twisted in a familiar pang, and he cleared his throat. He didn’t have the material things she’d had, but he’d had a close group of friends and always knew his family was there to give him as much moral support as he needed. “Do you still have them?”

She dipped her head to hide her face. “I do. I bought them myself when I turned fourteen. My mother thought they were frivolous, but I always loved them.”

“Worth a lot, huh?”

“Worth a lot to me, but not to too many other people.”

Adam felt like they were suddenly on dangerous ground. He knew Melanie had never had the best relationship with her parents. They’d loved her, there was never any doubt of that. But their expectations had always been pretty high. She wasn’t allowed to be a regular kid, with regular faults. She was supposed to be better than that. Maybe those silly little combs had been her first attempt at independence.